I hand you the power
you've always taken
for granted,
taken for yours -
your only weapon:
acting as if I don't exist:
this ghost among the living
since the day I had a name.
------------
Endless faces, endless
forms, a worn and tired story.
And I finally comprehend
the longing to be lucid -
(No, it does not interrupt
the long unwinding of time
If it's already shattered:
tint fragments of a broken watch
falling on cold stone,
running into shallow cracks
and even darker holes. )
------------
I promise you this:
the next time you appear
all smug and full of
the acrid audacity
that's so irretrievably yours,
I will wake up,
I will look you in the face
and I will take back
my rightful
sacred space.
(Has no one really
ever asked
"How could you?" )